PunchOut Rise to Stardom!
by YolkaEd
Summary: The World Video Boxing Association is full of eccentric types, but all of them aim to be the best. However, is the belt really the most important thing towards the end, or is it something else?


**Punch-Out – Rise to Stardom**

**Round 1**

**France's Glass Jaw**

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The lights flickered in the old gym hall, as the crowd began growing impatient. The start of the World Video Boxing Association's Tournament was supposed to have begun half an hour ago, but so far, none of the contenders had even bothered showing up. Just then, an announcer stepped into the boxing ring, holding a microphone in his hand, just as he cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm proud to say that both boxers have shown up, and the tournament can finally begin with the Minor Circuit!" As he said this, the crowd began roaring, as several snapshots were taken, nearly blinding the announcer from the blitzes.

"Now, on one side, hailing from Paris, France, 38 years old, standing five feet ten and weighing a hundred-and-ten pounds, with a record of 99 losses and one win, I give you France's Glass Jaw, Glass Joe!" The crowd began cheering, as someone else stepped into the ring. This man had brown hair that went up in a slick past the right side of his head, and he was wearing white shorts with red stripes, along with red boxing gloves and boots.

The man started laughing a little nervously, but nonetheless, he stepped towards the center of the ring, waving at the crowd. "Bonjour, bonjour!" he called as he waved. "I am Glass Joe! Ha-ha!"

The announcer looked towards the other side of the ring, holding out his free hand for dramatic effect. "And on this side, a newcomer hailing from the Bronx, New York, only 17 years old, standing five feet seven and weighing a hundred-and-seven pounds, I give you Little Mac!" More cheering from the crowd arose, just as a teenager stepped into the ring. Contrasting Joe, his hair was black, and he wore a black undershirt and black boots, and his shorts and boxing gloves were green, with the shorts also having red stripes adorning it.

Upon inspecting Mac, Joe sighed in relief, which only seemed to confuse his opponent, who tilted his head. "Uh… is something wrong?" he asked, just as Joe regained his focus.

"N-non, non!" Joe replied, as he got into a fighting stance, holding his boxing gloves by his stomach. "I was just relieved to not facing against a géant for my first match. So, how did you enter this tournoi?"

Mac smiled a little, as he got into a defensive stance. "I can tell you after our match, but let's just say for now that if not for Doc's coaching, I wouldn't be here." However, as he said this, Joe got a shocked look on his face. "I'm no expert, but… now I do think that something's wrong."

Joe's jaw was hanging loosely, as the Frenchman started looking through the crowd. "You were entraîned by Doc?! Does that mean…" he muttered, just as he saw someone standing by Mac's corner; an overweight, African American man wearing a red coach jacket, with a towel wrapped around his neck. As the man waved at Joe upon being noticed, Joe nearly fell on his rear. "Sacrebleu… you actually know Jerome 'Doc' Louis, one of the best 'poids lourd' boxers in the WVBA?" he asked Mac, who only nodded in response.

"Doc's a terrific guy." Mac said, as he noticed a referee stepping in between him and Joe. "But I think we'll have to wait until the match is over, wouldn't you say, Joe?" he added, just as the referee waved his hand down between them, giving them the clear signal to fight.

Almost immediately, Mac threw a jab aimed at Joe's face, but the Frenchman quickly blocked the attack from connecting "Attention mon menton! Don't hit my jaw!" Joe said, but before he could even plan to counter, Mac began throwing hook after hook aimed at Joe's abdomen, and for some reason, Joe was unable to block twelve of these strikes.

However, when Mac aimed a jab at Joe's face again, Joe quickly weaved to the right, making the fist fly cleanly past him. "Aha!" Joe exclaimed, as he clenched his right hand in preparation for a punch against Mac, but just as he threw it, Mac sidestepped to the left, making Joe's fist fly past him as well. "Uh oh…"

At that moment, Mac began throwing a hail of jabs at Joe's face, but as the Frenchman was caught off guard, he could only let Mac wail on him, each strike hitting his jaw. After a series of punches, however, Joe soon fell to the ground, his jaw having swollen up, and his mind dazed. As if on cue, the crowd began roaring, as the referee started to count up to ten.

"D… Déjà Pas!" Joe said just as the referee had gotten to four, before getting back up on his feet, waving his fists before him. "Let's go again!" he added, as he got back into place, throwing a simple left jab at Mac, but unfortunately, the slow punch was easily avoided by Mac, who responded by throwing a jab at Joe's jaw, sending him reeling back a bit.

As Joe rubbed his jaw in pain, Mac blinked a bit. "For being part of WVBA, you're… kind of predictable, Joe." he said bluntly, which got Joe's attention. "You're attacking far too slow for anyone not to take advantage of it, leaving yourself wide open for attack."

Joe opened his mouth to respond, when Mac threw a punch at his gut, which he fortunately blocked. "I take it that Monsieur Louis taught you that." he responded, before throwing another jab at Mac, which was again avoided. "A brilliant chasseur, that man. One of my pupils actually faced against Doc before he retired." Yet another jab was thrown, but Mac easily avoided it.

"I'll bet he has." Mac said with a smile, before avoiding another punch thrown by Joe. "After all, the only man who's ever gone the distance against Mr. Sandman has to have some reputation under his belt." Then, he threw a hook at Joe's unprotected stomach, which sent a shiver through the Frenchman's entire body, and as he had used up stamina trying to his Mac, he collapsed on the floor, just as the referee began counting to ten.

However, Joe eventually got up before the referee could count past eight, as he turned to face Mac again. "Alors, toi confectionner!" he announced, before leaping a small distance away from Mac. "Hey-hey! Vive la France!" he said as he shook his fists, before he suddenly ran at Mac, preparing to throw a right hook at the youth.

However, before Joe could ascertain what he was running against, Mac had thrown a devastating uppercut that smashed the right side of Joe's jaw, sending him soaring in slow motion across the ring, before he crashed into the ground, utterly knocked out. Even if he still had energy to fight, Mac had defeated him with a technical knockout. "Ah, merde…" he groaned, as Mac looked down at him sympathetically.

"And the winner of the first round in the World Video Boxing Association's Tournament is newcomer Little Mac, sending Glass Joe flying with a devastating blow!" the announcer yelled enthusiastically into the microphone, as the audience was in complete awe. "Everyone, give it up for this rising star!" As the crowd gave Mac a standing ovation, he looked at the crowd around him, and smiled brightly at the sight.

As the crowd kept on cheering, Mac went over to the fallen Joe, before extending a hand towards him. "That was a fun fight, Joe." he said with a smile, as Joe could only move his eyes towards the youth. "So, how about that talk we were going to have?"

Looking at the extended hand, Joe could only give a smile of relief, despite having suffered his hundredth loss. Then, he grabbed hold of Mac's hand, as he was hoisted off the ground, looking somewhat shaken and very battered, but he was smiling nonetheless.

However, someone in the crowd was neither smiling nor clapping, as he had his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at Mac's friendliness. "Diese Kinder bist fern zu freundlich…" he muttered, as he rubbed his moustache. "Trotzdem, ich kann nicht gewarte für unser Kampf…"

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"Thanks for keeping us company, Doc." Some time after the match between Mac and Joe had ended, the two boxers had taken time to find a café located in the Bronx, with Doc having accompanied them for most of the time, riding on a bicycle. The trio was now standing outside it, with Doc just about ready to leave. "You'll be borrowing my bike back to the gym, I reckon?" Mac said to his coach as he crossed his arms, smiling playfully.

"You bet, Mac baby!" Doc said enthusiastically, before chewing down on a chocolate bar. "Now don't stay out too late; you need to be at the top of your game if you're gonna take on Von Kaiser on Saturday! Joe, I'll leave Mac in your care, alright?" he said, as he looked at the Frenchman, who was holding a bag of ice against his jaw.

"Oui, Monsieur Louis." Joe responded, before bowing his head in respect. Having swapped his boxing outfit, he was now wearing a black shirt and a pair of red pants. "He'll be safe with me."

"That's what I wanted to hear." Doc responded with a grin, before he began pedaling the bicycle out of sight, leaving Mac and Joe to their own devices.

"So, how did you and Louis recontrer each other, again?" Joe asked when Doc was out of sight, as the two boxers entered the café, leading to Mac chuckling a little.

"That's actually a very funny story." Mac began, as the two sat down by the counter. "You see, I've wanted to join the World Video Boxing Association ever since I was fourteen, and so I traveled all over New York to find someone who would train me." Then, he broke into laughter. "But as it turned out, none of the 200 coaches who I approached had any interest in training me!"

Joe blinked upon hearing this, probably because he didn't see the humor in that statement. "Come to think of it, I do rappeler someone wanting to join my school… It must have been unintentional, but I might have thrown that guy's assiduité away somewhere… That wouldn't have been you, would it, Mac?" he asked, as he looked at Mac.

"I dunno." the teenager responded. "Hell, I can't even remember half the names of the coaches I tried signing under… but one day, I happened to meet Doc, and he was all too eager to help me out. A month later, and I scored my first victory!"

"At the same time of my centième loss." Joe said with a sigh, until he noticed Mac looking a little guilty. "Ah, non, non, don't take it like that!" he quickly said. "Actually, it's kind of a relief for me, especially after that incident…"

As he mentioned that, Joe shuddered, leaving Mac somewhat confused. "Uh… hey, I'll order something for you!" he suddenly said, before digging through the pockets of his shorts. "What do you want, Joe?"

Joe looked back at Mac for a moment, before placing a hand against his chin. "Hmm… I'll have some coffee, with two sucre cubes." he said with a nod, just as Mac fished a wallet out of his pocket.

"Alright, hang on…" Mac muttered, just as the counterman approached them. "Oh, hi! I'd like a coffee with two… sugar cubes?" he said questioningly, as Joe's sporadic use of French in his speech threw Mac off just a bit. "Yeah, probably that. And a Mountain Dew, if you got that." he added.

The bartender nodded, as he jotted down Mac's order on a notepad. "That'll be eight bucks, kiddo… but hell, since you put up such a show earlier today, consider 'em on the house." Then, he turned to grab the soda Mac had ordered, before casually throwing it towards Mac. "Catch!"

Though Mac was prepared to take hold of the incoming soda bottle, a larger hand coming from behind him suddenly grabbed the soda in mid-air, startling Mac, Joe and the bartender. "Hey, what do you think you're… doing?" Mac began, when he followed the larger hand back to its source, which only led to him being speechless. Standing behind them was a tall man at over six feet, wearing a Soviet uniform minus the hat, which revealed his bald head, whose black moustache resembled a crescent pointing down. "Soda Popinski?"

The man laughed, as he began uncorking the bottle of Mountain Dew. "Да, я Сода Попинский! Я эту претензию соды на имя моей родины!" he said in perfect Russian, before he started to down the bottle, when he suddenly froze, his cheeks bulging, before he spat the contents out of his mouth. "Blech, dis soda is dreadful!" Soda said in disgust, before quickly corking the bottle. "Hov can you Americans even drink dis trash? You need some real soda for real men!" Then, he suddenly slammed his hands on the counter, glaring at the bartender. "Принесите мне, пожалуйста, высокого класса соды на двойные!"

The bartender could only gape at the Russian trying to order something, if only because he didn't grasp the language that Soda was speaking. Mac, however, seemed to have gotten the gist of it, as he grabbed the bottle of Dew from Soda. "I'm not too sure what kind of soda you like, but I can pay for one that you'd like. How does a Red Bull sound to you?"

Soda looked down at Mac for a moment, before he started laughing incessantly. "Da, a bull colored its most hated color! Ирония это вкусно!" he laughed, just as he noticed Glass Joe looking fearfully up at him. "Ah, de Glass Jav! Vas it not you who managed to defeat Ni-" he began, when Joe suddenly shushed him with a quite nervous look on his face.

"Ix-nay on that utter-lay, Soda…" he whispered low enough for Mac not to hear it, but loud enough for the Russian to hear it. "I dislike talking about it."

Though both Mac and Soda looked at Joe in confusion, Soda's sudden burst of laughter broke the quick, awkward silence. "Do as you wish, Glass Jav!" he said, before turning to face Mac. "I vill look forvard to your next fight, Little Mac! If you're lucky enough, you might be able to face off against Soda Popinski in the World Circuit!" Laughing, he walked out of the café, leaving Mac, Joe and the bartender watching him leave in awe.

"Wow… I never expected a World Circuit boxer to be in this part of town." Mac whistled, before looking at the half-full Mountain Dew bottle. "Nor did I expect him to be that cheerful, soda-theft aside."

"There are many fighters like that in the WVBA." Joe said bluntly, as the bartender finally got to serving Joe his cup of coffee. "Some are better, and some are worse. Nonetheless, be disposé for anything." he said, before taking a sip out of the coffee cup, before suddenly retracting it from his mouth, as he had accidentally burnt himself by drinking the too-hot beverage. "Ch-chaud!" he groaned, as he waved his hand before his mouth to cool down the stinging.

"Better and worse, huh…" Mac muttered, as he looked at the half-full bottle again, before placing it on the counter, just as he began heading out the door. "I'll be ready for anything that comes around! Thanks for the tip, Joe!" he said cheerfully, as he headed out the door, leaving Joe in solitude.

"He is energetic, at least…" Joe muttered, before he blew at the coffee to cool it down. "This tournoi might be worth sitting all the way through, after all." he added, as he began sipping the coffee more carefully this time around.

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**A/N: **Well, here we are; my little written tribute to Punch-Out! For those of you who are wondering, no, I haven't stopped writing on Piracy yet, but I'm going through some writer's block for that one at the moment, and Punch-Out's been on my mind for quite some time, what with its quirky characters and vague storyline. So, I figured 'Why not write a story based on it?' Now, just so you know, I'll be trying to focus on the characters more so than the actual punch-outing, so if you see some lack of action, then just bear with it. Until next time, remember to read and review!

**YolkaEd**


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